


a journey to recover

by roboticake



Series: a journey to recover [2]
Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Angst, Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, Rating May Change, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 10:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15532482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roboticake/pseuds/roboticake
Summary: After Dracula's demise, Alucard flees. He journeys all over Wallachia for years, only to come back when he discovers the telltale signs ofanotherimminent disaster.Seeking his former companions for help, Alucard doesn't realize how five years can change them.He'll learn, eventually.(adevil in the detailsequel)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Deleted and reposted this work, as I modified the first chapter, the tags, and left the fic alone for a while. Not major changes, though, so no need to worry.
> 
> As a "devil in the detail" sequel, I strongly advise you to read the first part, but it should still make sense read alone! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 

Leaves rustling beneath his boots, Alucard walks without hesitation, strides through empty fields and dense forests alike. He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t slow down, not until the ink of the night bleeds into the golden sky.

The place he seeks is farther away, far from the big cities of Wallachia. It’s a remote village forgotten by most, so small its few torches are mistaken for fireflies from afar. The flames dance with the wind, cast trembling shadows on the red leaves of autumn.

When he arrives, it’s silent except for the quiet burbling of the river nearby and the whisper of the wind; and although it’s still not cold enough for his breath to turn into mist, Alucard dips his chin into the high collar of his coat. It has always been odd for him, as a creature of the night, to be able to feel the cold so much. It is not truly like humans, his sense of touch is duller than most, yet he doesn’t loathe it. It’s another difference he has from his pure-blooded kin, another trait from his human mother he deeply loved.

But hybrid or not, Alucard still doesn’t grasp how mankind processes things. While the vestiges of the horror his father, Dracula, has unleashed upon the world are still here –hidden demons waiting for a chance to pounce and to kill, charred villages and nameless tombs on roadsides, humans act as if they forgot. They moved on so quickly from pain and death and destruction, reclaiming back their lands and building up their home again in a blink of an eye. Even in a place like this, small and annihilated by misery not so long ago.

If he is honest with himself, Alucard would say he is angry. He is angry to see his mother dead and forgotten while everyone else moves on so effortlessly, as if humans have never known anything wrong, as if they were never once part of the problem that plagued this world. They leave Alucard, trapped in immortality, behind, alone and cold, still mourning his mother. His father.

Because before Dracula, there was Vlad Tepes. And while he wasn’t an inherently good being, he was still someone, someone who cradled his son carefully in his arms, someone who could smile gently, someone who would sing softly his wife’s favorite songs. Someone who could love and share and believe in something better.

Vlad Tepes cared, loved; in a way more than any human would ever come to love, and despite the blood and the fight and the pain, Alucard can’t just decide to forget it. Seeing Trevor Belmont bury the Vampire Killer into his father’s heart hurt more than he expected to. So he left, took time away from Targoviste as soon as their quest was done and his father turned to dust.

He journeyed in all of Wallachia, stepped into Transylvania, risked himself in Moldavia for years.

Alucard frowns. It is no time to remember this. In his journey, he uncovered nests of demons East, and he needs help before another catastrophe can happen. They are too organized, too methodical and too intelligent to be simple remnants of his father’s army.

He stops a second in the main square where the village inn is, wondering if the man he seeks could be there. After a while, he shrugs and leaves. The tavern is too lively for his target’s and his taste, and he takes instead a barely lit road to reach the farthest house, near the forest. _He_ should be there. _He_ never liked to be the center of attention.

Alucard stops again, takes a curious look at the house.

It doesn’t have anything special nor beautiful. Alucard searches for a name sign, but there is none. Just a wooden door, recently repaired, and a dusty flower pot perched on the windowsill. Autumn has stripped the stems of their flowers. The garden behind the house is badly kept too, weed pushing through the cracks of a broken rock.

Alucard draws a deep breath and raises a fist, unsure for a second. There are a lot of questions in his mind, and he expects a lot of questions too, but when he knocks, there is only a long silence. Anxiety settles in his guts and doesn’t leave, nesting there and constricting his chest.

And then, _finally_ , the door creaks open, and he sees a scarred face, brown hair and blue shocked eyes. Alucard opens his mouth, tries to offer something reassuring; a smile maybe, or a wave, yet he doesn’t have time to do anything because the door flies open and an enraged _Trevor Belmont_ is grasping his collar and pulling him inside, manhandling him against the nearest wall.

“Fucking Hell, _you_ –” Trevor begins, raises a fist to punch him.

Alucard hisses and pushes the man away before the hit lands, throwing himself a punch that unfortunately misses, and everything goes into one of these unrefined, familiar, brawls that Alucard hates.

They fight like drunken patrons in taverns, and in the end, Trevor is muttering insults and grunting as he wraps his arm around Alucard’s neck. He gets an elbow in his ribs and a kick in his stomach in retaliation, and Trevor coughs, taken aback, while Alucard takes a couple of steps back.

He must have landed a hit without even realizing it. When Trevor bares his teeth in rage, snarling like a feral wolf, they are blood-stained.

Fortunately, the scent of blood doesn’t hit Alucard as hard as he thinks it would. It’s familiar enough to make him want, but it’s not hunger, it’s, to his own surprise, _longing_. He can contain it. He can fight it. He can repress it.

“You can’t just–” Trevor begins before he stops himself. His voice shakes with fury and something else. “You can’t just come back like this. Leaving for five years and–”

Trevor trails off. Alucard can hear him take a deep breath, steadying himself. He is… More controlled than the vampire remembers. Colder too, as if their perilous quest, years ago, meant nothing. It feels like they never met and it makes Alucard oddly uncomfortable.

“What do you want, vampire ?” Trevor finally spits, eyeing Alucard from head to toe.

Alucard flinches. He didn’t expect that. He has expected the fury, the brawl and the fight, not that invisible wall between them. Realizing there is no wariness in the way Trevor acts makes it worse. It is, in a way, proof that Trevor knows him, knows who and _what_ Alucard is, but decides to act like they don’t know each other, not anymore.

“Belmont,” Alucard begins softly, “ _Trevor_ ”.

Trevor purses his lips as soon as he hears his name. He doesn’t say anything, crosses his arms instead. The anger is back, bubbling in his chest, in his eyes. Somehow, they look sharper, even more than when they just met. He’s waiting for Alucard to speak.

“Trouble is brewing East,” Alucard finally explains quietly. “Demons are gathering together. They are unlike any other demons, and I am afraid Tulcea will-”

“I don’t care.”

Alucard blinks, unable to proceed as planned.

“I don’t care,” Trevor snaps again, uncrossing his arms and striding towards Alucard, breaching his personal space like a dare. He points a finger at Alucard’s chest, a gesture quite reminiscent of a certain Speaker. “Tulcea is weeks from here. So, not my village, not my problem. You can deal with them. Alone.”

Alucard wrinkles his nose, revealing his sharp teeth. Trevor doesn’t seem afraid, but disgusted, and the dhampir can feel his blood boil.

“You coward,” he hisses. He knows Trevor is far from being a coward, but... “You hide in this village waiting for the storm to pass, powerless and useless. How can I have seen a savior in you, you–”

“I’m not the one who left without a word!” Trevor retorts. His voice is rising and cracking again, taking Alucard aback. “You left for years and you come back _demanding_ help? Who do you think you are?”

“I...” Alucard begins, not knowing what to say, what to do, but Trevor is clutching his collar again. It’s weak, though, too weak, and he feels like he’s not seeing or hearing Trevor Belmont, vampire hunter, fearsome warrior, but someone else, suddenly too human and too broken.

“You left when she needed you, you fucking vampire,” Trevor finally mutters. “She was lost, she lost her grandfather, she saw the world crumble before her eyes. She had only the two of us and you _left_.”

_Sypha_. The name stings Alucard’s heart. He wonders how she is, if she is well, but instead, he says, “My father was dead, and his demons went back to Hell. I didn't see how my presence would have helped.”

“Killing him doesn’t make everything suddenly right,” Trevor snarls.

“And I still do not see the pertinence of my presence,” Alucard grits. He gestures dismissively at Trevor, at this house, at the stupid chimney. He feels bitter and angry and tired, in a way he shouldn’t be. “Look at you. You human recover, build back easily. You do not need me to ‘ _make it right_ ’.”

Trevor frowns. He wrinkles his nose, ready to argue, yet stops, suddenly tense. Behind him, the stairs creak, and a small, worried voice rises up.

“ _Papa_?”

Alucard has to take a couple of seconds to realize said “ _Papa_ ” is Trevor Belmont, who is blinking up the stairs.

The dhampir follows his gaze with his own and finds Sypha up there, her head cocked to a side, cradling gently a boy in an arm. The other one is raised, a ball of fire floating between two fingers. It’s an oddly familiar sight, Alucard thinks. Sypha has still her hair cut short and he eyes are still sparkling with wonder and curiosity. She looks like all these years ago, save for her attire –she traded her Speaker robes for a white gown.

Sypha blinks wordlessly at Alucard.

“Adrian,” she breathes, the fire dissipating into smoke. She slowly comes down the stairs. She looks stunned. “Trevor, did you…?”

Alucard doesn’t hear the rest of her question.

It’s only then that he notices how Trevor is dressed, too. The dirty tunics he had before have been replaced by large cotton shirts, thinner and more comfortable looking. His armor isn’t on, the Belmont family crest forgotten, and he is barefoot. Alucard spots what’s supposedly his sabots lying messily in a corner of the room, while his old fur-lined boots are nowhere to be found.

Trevor Belmont isn’t a hunter anymore, Alucard realizes. Trevor Belmont is a simple man with a simple life and he has a son now, a son clinging Sypha’s arms.

Alucard is surprised first, then ashamed to feel disappointment. Both Trevor and Sypha were ready to give their life to this ungrateful, cruel world; they have earned to right to lead a quiet life together, after that. And yet, he feels anger rising up. Only the big, blue eyes of the child, staring at him with curiosity, refrain him from lashing out.

_I’m sorry, I’ll leave now,_ Alucard should say, but instead, he gives the child a small smile and asks, “What’s his name?”

“Pavel,” Trevor mutters hesitantly. He makes an aborted movement toward Sypha. “He’ll be three soon.”

The smile he gives her and Pavel is soft and genuine, and Alucard's chest hurts.

Mankind is truly quick to forget.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reminiscence and acceptance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapter in a go. An apology for leaving this fic for months!

 

Sypha takes Alucard’s return more gracefully than Trevor. She looks and sounds genuinely happy to see him, but there’s sadness lingering in her eyes when she invites him to stay the night, or _at least just a bit, please, it has been so long,_ when she sees Alucard ready to leave.

He has learned, a while ago, that few chosen ones could manage to change her mind, and Alucard wasn’t one of them.

So here he is, near the fire, abandoning any protest he could have come up with the second Sypha raises an eyebrow. Trevor, for his part, decides to stay too, leaning against the wall in front of the dhampir, arms crossed, trying to put some distance –both literally and metaphorically. The man seems to have calmed down, but his face remains unreadable, making Alucard uneasy enough to shift his gaze to the dimly lit chimney. He feels Trevor’s eyes on him; the same careful, condescending scrutiny as when they first met, five years ago, in a chaos of violence, dust, and fire.

Sypha has climbed back up to rock Pavel back to sleep, and, as seconds pass, the silence grows to be nearly unbearable. Trevor finally huffs and sighs, pushing himself away from the wall. He stands in front of Alucard, masking the chimney, forcing the dhampir to look up.

“Why are you back?” Trevor asks, and his voice, stripped from anger, is just reproachful and lost and painful. There’s something amiss, and Alucard fights the desire to mention it.

“As I said, demons are–” he says instead, but Trevor shakes his head as if the danger is something that could be denied.

“I know,” the man interrupts, sounding slightly frustrated, “but you can kill them alone, no? Why are you here?”

Alucard doesn’t know how to reply. Words escape him, and he is unable to form any answer. He just stays immobile, eyes down once more. He knows Trevor has something he cares about now; he has the warmth of a home, the luxury to lead the simple life he never had. He has a son too, Alucard thinks desperately, although he can not _not_ ask Trevor to join him in his journey.

As time passes, he is still unable to voice his answer, because, in the end, Trevor is right. Alucard can deal with the demons alone, with his silver sword and his destructive magic, with his inhuman speed and his monstrous strength; and he knows there is not a single sound reason to tear a father away from his son. It’s too selfish, too stupid and too cruel, in a way that hits Alucard’s heart too much.

Trevor sighs again, abandoning the hope of getting an answer, and silence weights on them like lead. They can hear Pavel’s cries upstairs and Sypha’s soothing voice. Alucard stands up, peeling his coat from the hanger. His eyes are cast down, his breath cut short with the strength of... Of what? Of his shame? Of his envy? Of his jealousy?

These past five years were nothing but loneliness and grief, and in all the places he visited, in all the people he met, Alucard never found solace the way Trevor and Sypha did; and oh, how was he foolish to hope so! Alucard is absolutely not human, to begin with. He is not limited by mortals’ short lifespan, his mind doesn’t have to press onward. He has both the luxury and the curse to feel too much for too long, and five years seem ridiculous for his near immortality yet too much for his human friends.

The loss of his parents is too fresh in his mind. The smell of charred flesh still burns his nose.

“For what it’s worth, I am... sorry, Belmont,” Alucard says. He is slightly nauseous as he stands up too quickly, is quick to ignore the flash of concern on Trevor’s face. “Pray tell Sypha I am sorry, too. I should have told you this before I departed but –I wish you happiness.”

Trevor seems to be taken aback. There’s something torn and tired in his face, strange for a man who finally found a semblance of peace and stability in his life. He stays silent, though, his eyes minutely down, and only nods gratefully as Alucard pulls the door open and walks away. He can still hear Sypha’s voice, faintly, as he closes the wooden fence behind him.

“Did you let him leave? I told him to– Trevor, you–”

She’s cut by Pavel’s cries, and Alucard smiles to himself. Many things changed, many things didn’t.

  
– – –

  
Alucard spends the night in the only inn of the village, dropping more coins than necessary to ensure that no one would disturb him. The innkeeper seems suspicious at first, glancing at the sword and his strange eyes, but the gold of his pouch appease her enough for her to lead him to one of the cleaner room of the establishment. It’s modest, smells of mold and there are some stains on the sheets that make Alucard wrinkle his nose. The innkeeper seems a bit embarrassed, but Alucard shakes his head and dismisses her with a small, perfectly fake, smile. She nods and leaves without a word, only gesturing at the water and the small piece of fresh bread on the night table. From the smell, garlic has been smeared on it.

Alucard sniffs in disdainful amusement. He doesn’t need this kind of sustenance, but still eats the bread just to prove a point. Trevor’s pettiness seems to have rubbed off on him.

For a while, Alucard only sits on the armchair of the room, his sword lying flat on his knees. He oils it silently, watching from time to time Trevor and Sypha’s house through the window. The candles are already blown off, and the patrons just under his room have finally quieted down. He can still pick up some of their banter, but mostly, the quiet snores of the drunkest of them.

The village is quietly lulled into a peaceful night, and Alucard catches himself falling asleep too. His journey from the outskirts of Tulcea to this village has been long and tiring, and meeting Trevor and Sypha after all this time has been too draining –an exhaustion that was heavier than any kind of battle Alucard faced in the past.

It isn't much of a surprise to dream of his father and his mother. A memory of a calmer, happier childhood extrapolated into a scene close to something Alucard witnessed before, when he was too young and too stupid to cherish moments of peace.

It’s odd to see Dracula when he was still caring and loving, teaching Lisa with fond exasperation how to dance, a step after another. They correct each other, their banter loud enough to pick up the interest of many creatures of the castle. They don’t mock, but there’s pity and contempt in their eyes when the six years old Alucard of the dream spots them watching. After all, how could Dracula, fearsome Dracula, fall for such a fragile human?

There’s a silhouette Alucard sees from the corner of his eye, gone in an instant. Another creature, but this one is watching him, and not his parents. The small dhampir shrugs the uneasy feeling away, though, and forgets about it as soon as his mother spots him and runs to him, hands raised and ready to tickle him.

“Adrian, aren’t you sleeping, dear?”

Her words create a dissonance that forces Alucard to wake up. The smile in his sleep stays; a broken, longing smile he loses when he is fully up. He stares at the wooden ceiling of the inn in confusion. Birds, outside, chirp joyously. Somewhere further down the road, horses neigh. The sky is still dark, but the sun has already begun to turn the far horizon into a golden pink hue.

As Alucard runs a hand over his face, he realizes doesn’t remember anything from his dream. It just left an empty hole gnawing at his insides and unfounded anger.

He gets up, cleans himself quickly, and walks downstairs. There is something unsettling him here. He needs to go, go East and never come back.

His teeth are still gritted and his jaw is still squared when he sees Sypha near the counter of the inn, deeply engaged in a whispered conversation with the innkeeper. The room is mostly empty, except for a few patrons who obviously decided to sleep on the tables. Pavel and Trevor are nowhere to be seen, probably still sleeping at home. When Sypha notices Alucard, she beams at him.

“Adrian,” she whispers, beckoning him to come closer with wild gestures. “I was hoping to see you before you leave.”

“Sypha,” Alucard greets, voice low but not quite a whisper.

“Come, let’s take some air.”

Alucard nods. A feeling of emptiness doesn’t leave his guts, but the morning fresh air should do wonders.

He follows the Speaker quietly. For a moment, he is reminded of the beginning of their adventure, when he was too unsettled, too uncomfortable to initiate any conversation; when Sypha was the one trying to get to know him with gentle queries and genuine concern. Would it be terrible for Alucard to admit he misses these times?

“You... Have quite a few questions, don’t you ?” Sypha says more than asks, glancing at her feet, and Alucard shrugs.

“Your lives don’t concern me anymore,” he replies.

Sypha snorts inelegantly and rolls her eyes.

“You still came all the way from Tulcea to tell us about the demons,” she mutters, raising an eyebrow. Her voice turns somber when she continues, “is it serious? Do you need us?”

Alucard is taken aback for a moment. She has Trevor, she has Pavel, she has a new life. She doesn’t want to be put into the horror of the world again. He frowns, and Sypha laughs. There’s no humor in there; just weariness and defeat.

“Us –I meant _him_ ,” she corrects. “I can’t leave, I...”

It’s easy to spot a bird in a cage, Alucard muses, especially when it exudes the heavy aura of defeat and resignation; especially when wanderlust is still clinging to her drooping shoulders. He cocks his head to a side. Before he knows it, he is already replying.  
  
“You are your own woman, Sypha. Sacrifice doesn’t suit you.”

Sacrifice doesn’t suit her as much as selfishness doesn’t suit Alucard; but he longs for a time where he wasn’t alone, where he wasn’t lonely, where he doesn’t find the crippling weight of solitude unbearable. Sypha isn’t such a terrible being, though. She smiles and shakes her head, waving dismissively her hand.

“It’s necessary, sometimes,” she says. “And it isn’t always bad.”

Alucard isn’t sure how to reply, so he doesn’t. He stays silent for a while, before he dares to comment, gingerly, uncomfortably, “Pavel... Does take after Trevor.”

Sypha snorts. The child brings light into her eyes. “I know. I hope he doesn’t take _everything_ after Trevor. One is already difficult enough for me to regret Dra–”

She flinches and interrupts herself with a wince. Her eyes immediately drop back to her feet. “Sorry. It was insensitive.”

“It is quite alright,” Alucard reassures her.

It is not, of course it is _not_ , but Alucard is tired of losing everyone; he doesn’t want to argue or to fight. So they continue to walk in silence, the dead leaves cracking under their feet.

“Sometimes, I wonder how they aren’t related,” Sypha finally mutters after a while, when the uneasiness is gone, and Alucard frowns. He stops walking, lost, and Sypha has a small smirk on her lips, the smirk she only shows when she has too much information and is wondering if she should share. In a way, it reminds Alucard of a smug cat.

“We arrived here two years ago,” Sypha explains. Her voice is neutral, but bears the scars of past anger and pain. Alucard doesn’t move an inch, despite the guilt snaking around his throat, cutting his breath, making it harsher. Sypha doesn’t seem to notice. For her, it is just the past. She continues, shrugging.

“There were still demons, the ones who couldn’t crawl back in their hole, roaming around. It’s a small village, here, and no one would come to help them. So we did, and it was already... Late. We killed the demons quickly, but some of the villagers... They...”

She sighs heavily.

“One of them was Pavel’s father. He was the innkeeper.”

Sypha then bites her lower lip, deep in thoughts. Noticing that Alucard doesn’t comment on anything and awaits patiently the rest of her story, she goes on.

“His wife, Sasha, the woman you saw –she took over the inn. Most nights, and even some days, she can’t take care of Pavel; so I offered her to keep an eye on him. But in the end, Trevor was the one to really take care of him. I can't, I...”

Sypha shakes her head. There are tears threatening to roll down her cheeks. “It’s wonderful to see life, after what we lived, no? It gives hope. But I... I...”

Alucard runs a hesitant hand in her red hair. He knows. He knows how it is, to see the worst of the world and to come back, to try to settle down after having walked through blood and guts and death, to be afraid to find happiness because it can be too quickly, too easily ripped away. No one can really forget the atrocities his father brought into Wallachia; not in a month, not in a century. Not even Trevor. Not even Alucard.

“Trevor is stupid,” Sypha suddenly says, as blunt as usual, although fondness is lingering in her words. “But he cares about you. He just holds grudges.”

Alucard doesn’t quite grimace, but he purses his lips.

“I did not comprehend why you would still want me with you,” he confesses. “I am the spawn of Dracula, and what we shared, the bond we had there –it was only forged in the urgency of a dying world.”

Sypha crosses her arm. They have stopped walking for a while now, but both of them didn’t quite notice until now. The wind whistling above them, the mist of Sypha's breath, they remind them of the approaching winter, of when they killed Dracula, painting the snow red.

She doesn’t sound hurt when she speaks again. She has the words and the poise of a scholar only waiting for the truth.

“Is that what you think, Adrian?”

Alucard remembers their journey too well. Their banter as they rode to Targoviste; the cold nights they spent around a fire. The sparring sessions that always seemed to turn into a fistfight –he wonders if the cut on Trevor’s face managed to heal properly; the way Sypha helped him to use his powers more responsibly. The moment they fought against his father’s minions, wordless strategy communicated through a single glance.

That night in the forest. The fear he shared with Trevor when they were so, so certain to not survive the day. How they clung to each other, not chasing warmth but life, seeking reassurance that although they wouldn’t survive, they were here, they lived, they left a mark in the then crumbling world.

The answer to Sypha’s question is loud and desperate in Alucard’s heart. Of course he didn’t think their bond was nothing, but humans are small, flickering lights barely noticeable in an immortal’s life. They forget quickly, discarding what they don’t want to remember as soon as they can. And Alucard is not something to remember.

Alucard’s face isn't known to be expressive, but Sypha knows. She offers a hand, warm and reassuring in the cold air around them.

“Stay with us, Adrian,” she pleads. “We’ll help you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/roboticake) is you wish to talk (and scream about a lot of things) ! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


End file.
